


Forever I pray those beautiful eyes wanna fall upon me

by newtmasdoesthedo



Series: Well, except Newt. He calls me Tommy. [11]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Bullying, Homophobia, M/M, Newt's sister is called Naya, also Thomas is clueless as always, and that's the original character, pining!Tommy, quiet Nerdy!Newt gives me life, this is going to be a problem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtmasdoesthedo/pseuds/newtmasdoesthedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas drew in a sharp breath and ducked his head, trying to hide exactly how much that comment stung. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”</p><p>Newt shrugged. “Yeah, well, life’s tough Tommy, you don’t just get to tell people to be friends with you, that’s not how things work.”</p><p>And then he turned around and walked back into the house, and Thomas couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so defeated. It must have showed when he turned around and started walking to the car, because Minho’s shrill wolf-whistle died on his lips when he saw the broken look on Thomas’ face. He winced slightly when the door slammed behind him a few seconds after that. </p><p>“That went well I take it.” Minho stated, looking at him when he got in and put his forehead on the steering-wheel.</p><p>“Yeah. Incredible, we’re adopting three babies.”</p><p>Minho patted him sympathetically on the back. “Beer?”</p><p>“Affirmative. Beer.”</p><p>“Beer it is then. You probably shouldn’t have broken his nose.”</p><p>“Duly noted.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of broken noses and shattered dreams

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This was prompted to me by an anon on [my tumblr](http://newtmasdoesthedo.tumblr.com). That anon can sit down and think about what they did because this verse is going to wreck me. And all of you. That's a promise.  
> 2\. No but really thank you so much for the prompt you don't understand how much this verse means to me already.  
> 3\. Thomas is a major idiot, there's a shocker.  
> 4\. Minho is a fucking badass and I love him and he has a special place in my heart ok.

Being a transfer-student wasn’t exactly easy. Thomas would know. He had been, but he was fortunate enough that he was an excellent football-player and a pretty open person. He’d always been good at talking to people and he’d always been the type people instinctively liked. He was a natural leader, but didn’t want to fight anyone just because he wanted to be the alpha. It wasn’t in his nature to be dominant per say, he just took charge when he needed to. Maybe that was why he was made co-captain of the football team, and maybe that was also why he didn’t really want to take part in the stupid bullying Gally and the others took part in.  
  
Minho and Alby weren’t so bad, but the group-culture of young boys could do something to people, and being naturally very snarky and very aggressive they didn’t exactly seem to care. They were nice enough guys, Thomas liked his friends and they’d never done anything to him, but sometimes it was sort of tough not to question the way things were. And it wasn’t really a problem in the beginning. He never partook in the stupidity, but he didn’t exactly do much about it either even though he definitely should have. He didn’t want to deal with Gally anyway, and he knew that the other guy wasn’t particularly happy with having to share the team-captain post with him. He’d only just gotten it because Alby had injured himself and Minho nominated Thomas before Thomas could nominate him.  
  
So that meant that he was in pretty good standing at the school, and he didn’t want to challenge that fact. He learned the hard way that being a mouthy little shit wasn’t helpful in making friends, so he held his peace and stayed out of it, even when Gally and his friends were being idiots. Maybe that made him part of the problem, but hey, it wasn’t his responsibility to stop high school bullying, was it now? That hardly made him a bad person, although it probably didn’t make him a good person either.  
The thing was, Thomas didn’t spend so much time thinking about it. It hadn’t even graced his mind that maybe he should tell Gally and his buffoons to fuck off because even though they were on the same team they didn’t really spend much time together, which meant that when Gally and his friends went on a rampage of tyranny Thomas, Alby and Minho had often separated from them already. It wasn’t like they’d always eat lunch together or anything like that. That all changed, one day, of course, because Thomas had always known that he was bisexual, but he hadn’t known that he had a weakness for cute British nerds who wore plaid hipster shirts and beanies and completely over-used the word bloody.  
He also hadn’t known that he inspired such vehement dislike in said blondes before a couple of weeks after the guy had started, Thomas accidentally bumped into him in the hallway and the dude rolled his eyes with a look of pure disdain. He wasn’t sure if that was the day he’d developed his crush, because he didn’t remember talking to Newt ever before that, but it sure was a weird thing to fall for. Then again, Thomas had always been a bit odd about stuff like that. Besides, Newt was… well, Newt was everything.  
  
Newt was a halo of blonde hair when the sun was shining, almost painful to look at with his angelic features. He was pure brightness both in looks and brains. He was one of the smartest kids in school, no competition. He always had a scathing remark if someone picked on him, and yeah, that got him bullied and beat up and hurt sometimes, but that didn’t really seem to bother him, and Thomas couldn’t help but admire a guy who would stand up for himself and his friends. His cheekbones were hypnotizing, and his eyes… Thomas would’ve written sonnet upon sonnet on his eyes, had he been capable of stuff like that. He wasn’t, though, and he was pretty certain Newt was aware of that. The guy obviously wasn’t his biggest fan, and Thomas had to find a way around that, one way or another.  
  
So he did what any regular person would do. “Hey, would you mind helping me out with my homework?” he asked as he flopped down into the chair next to Newt’s, extending his hand, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced, my name is Thomas.”  
  
He was partly surprised, partly not at all when Newt just stood up instantly and rolled his eyes before leaving. So that didn’t go so well. Thomas picked his phone out of his pocket, shooting a message at Minho and stood up, following the new guy. “Hey, welcome to Glade High, how’s your first couple of weeks going so far? Making any friends?”  
  
The blonde scoffed, rolling his eyes again, and it really shouldn’t have been that attractive. “I mean I know it’s hard to be new, I was new once.” He assured, putting a hand on the guy’s shoulder, surprised when it was shrugged off, because honestly Newt didn’t seem downright rude. Thomas guessed he was then.  
  
Okay, so he wasn’t supposed to want Newt. Fine. That was totally fine. He wouldn’t even try. Newt was off limits. He didn’t want Thomas to get close. That was fine. Thomas wouldn’t. He’d leave Newt alone. He wouldn’t even come close.  
  
He was totally going to keep his distance and try not to impose on the guy. For at least like a couple of days before he tried again. And it wasn’t like he just wanted to get in his pants, it wasn’t anything like that, it was like he wanted to walk down the hallways with him and hold his hand, and Thomas didn’t know exactly how he’d managed to develop a crush so quickly. Maybe if he got to know him he’d find out that Newt wasn’t someone he could see himself with, and then that would be that, but he couldn’t deal with the thought of not trying. Thomas was way too stubborn, and he really didn’t want to walk around in a haze of “what ifs”, and if he never tried that would be the result. So he gave the guy a couple of days more to try to settle, went on about his life as he always had.  
  
The day Newt finally talked to him on his own accord didn’t go exactly like Thomas could’ve hoped. The day was nice enough, the sun was beating down from a blue sky, the smell of newly-cut grass and musk in the air, a good run (because he’d mouthed off and their coach had made him run laps) and a good training session made the day pretty close to perfect. The thing was that Thomas was really distracted. Like, _really_ distracted, because Newt was sitting on the bleachers with Chuck, one of the kids that Thomas only knew a little bit, but none the less really liked. Chuck was funny, he pranked people a lot, especially Gally, but he wasn’t part of _the popular crowd._ People liked him well enough, but they picked on him a bit as well, maybe because he was sort of small and pudgy, or maybe just because he was sort of the class clown and didn’t seem to mind that much.  
  
How he’d managed to be friends with someone like Newt, Thomas really didn’t know, but he certainly didn’t hate it. He knew that Chuck looked up to him, so maybe the kid would speak his case if they ever got to talking about him. Thomas really hoped they would. The thought of Newt falling for him and talking to his friends about him made Thomas’ insides jump a bit, and he knew that it was just a fantasy, but he really liked it and it made his cheeks burn a bit. He was happy he’d been forced to run, because that meant that he was already red and sweaty and his thoughts weren’t given away by an untimely blush.  
  
“Green! Focus!” the coach barked when Thomas had been looking at Newt for just a couple of seconds too long, and Minho shouldered past him, smiling from ear to ear as he winked back at him.  
  
“Yeah, Greenie, don’t lose your head because you’re daydreaming, we need to practice, you know we can’t lose against The Maze High Grievers, they beat our asses last time.” He laughed, and Thomas shot him a dark look. Minho wasn’t going to tell on him, he knew that much, but he wasn’t exactly making a secret of Thomas’ crush either. He never should’ve told him, the idiot.  
  
He snorted and jogged after his friend. “That’s because I was benched and you guys suck without me, don’t pretend like you don’t know it.”  
  
When he caught up to his friend Minho leaned in, smirking, “How about you stop looking at blondie like you’re a love-sick puppy and do your damn job then, _Captain Greenie?_ Who studies at the bleachers anyway?” he asked, shooting Newt and Chuck a glance before shrugging himself and jogging further away, “Come on, Thomas, you need to practice your passes! You’ve been missing a lot lately, something got ya distracted?”  
  
Thomas grimaced and rolled his eyes at him. Did he really have to yell about Thomas being in bad shape in front of Newt? He considered if one could return friends, but ended up smiling anyway. “It’s a nice day, I get why people are out here.” And then he threw the pigskin so hard Minho almost stumbled when he caught it. “How’s that for a pass?”  
  
“Show-off!”  
  
“Idiot.”  
  
“That was a nice pass.”  
  
Thomas laughed and flashed Minho a thumbs up, flexing his bicep and hoping that Newt was looking. Nothing on his friend’s face told whether or not he was – the unhelpful bastard – so Thomas kept himself moving, trying to distract himself from thoughts of Newt coming to his games, cheering him on and kissing him when he scored the winning goal.  
  
After a couple of passes they started practicing drills with the others, and Thomas kept his focus well-enough until he accidentally looked up at the wrong time, ready for a shot and caught the sight of Newt stretching and his shirt riding up to reveal slim hips and pale skin, and his brain completely short-circuited and he threw the ball _hard_. And managed to hit Newt square in the face with it.  
  
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, terrified and instantly ran up the bleachers, ignoring Minho’s booming laughter. “I am _so_ sorry, that really wasn’t on purpose, I swear, I didn’t mean to-“  
  
“Get _away_ from me!” the now very angry blonde hissed at him, covering his nose from where blood was oozing and Thomas pulled away a bit, knowing that his face was probably set in a mask of pure horror, and he quickly pulled off his jersey and handed it to the angry Englishman. “Here, take this, you can put it on your nose, I’ll walk you to the school-nurse, I’m so sorry, do you think it’s broken?”  
  
Newt stared at him angrily, but took the jersey and put it on his face. “Shut the bloody hell up, or I will break _yours._ ”  
  
“That seems a bit excessive.” Thomas piped up softly, knowing that he probably shouldn’t mouth off when Newt was obviously pretty close to strangling him already, and he ducked before the other guy could actually hit him when he swatted at his face. “Okay, okay I’m really sorry, I mean it, come on, I’ll walk you.” He assured, helping Newt up without really being bothered by the way Newt tried to twist away from him and swatted at him again. “I swear to God, I didn’t mean to, this is not some weird sort of revenge because you didn’t want to be my friend, I promise.”  
  
Newt just glared at him, but let him lead the way with a hand on his arm. “I hate you.”  
  
Thomas frowned, wrinkling his forehead and turning his face so he could look at Newt. “Actually, I’ve been wondering, why _do_ you dislike me so much? I mean, you’ve only been here for like 17 days, you hating me that quickly just seems weird, I’ve never done anything to you, have I?”  
  
Newt stared at him, eyes still tight in the corners by anger, slightly narrowed, and Thomas thought he was beautiful. “Look, Green, I know guys like you, I don’t care what you say, you’re not interested in being my friend, you’re going to make me trust you and then you’re probably going to make fun of me or beat me up or do some stupid prank or whatever. Guys like you and guys like me aren’t friends, and I don’t bloody want to be.”  
  
Thomas blinked. “What? You think… No! That’s not true, I wouldn’t do something like that, why do you think I’m so childish? I’ve never bullied anyone in my life!” he protested, partly offended and partly hurt that Newt would assume this about him.  
  
The Englishman just snorted and rolled his eyes, walking into the nurse’s office and slamming the door behind him, leaving Thomas standing outside in pure confusion.  
  
After that about three weeks went on where Thomas apologized every time he saw Newt, only getting snarky comments and glares for an answer. It was lovely, really. But then things changed.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
“Hey here’s an idea!”  
  
Thomas looked over at Minho, stopping the doodling he’d been doing to pass the time. This class was mind-numbingly boring, maybe because Thomas really wasn’t learning anything new. He’d read the book they were talking about two years ago. Being extremely bright and actually enjoying reading the classics wasn’t always a bad thing. The book hadn’t even been that good.  
  
“How about you stop writing Mr. Thomas Isaacson on the fucking notes we’ll have to turn in to prove that we actually listened and maybe brighten up a bit? I mean, I know blondie doesn’t like you, but it’s not the end of the world, you miserable idiot. You’ll find someone else to crush on. You dated Teresa and thought she was your one and only, remember?” Minho whispered to him, dragging their notes to him, and Thomas glared at him.  
  
“I didn’t write Mr. Thomas Isaacson, I’m not a love-sick teenager.” he answered also in a whisper and yet he managed an annoyed tone.  
  
Minho’s one eyebrow shot upwards “Aren’t you though?”  
  
Thomas made a face at him, “No I’m not, and his name isn’t Isaacson, it’s just Isaacs.”  
  
Minho rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder if you know how easy you make it, Greenie.”  
  
Thomas shoved at him hard, which of course caught their teacher’s attention. “Mr. Green, if you can’t focus I believe you’d do better to leave my class and come back for detention Monday instead. That way Minho can actually focus on _his_ work.”  
  
Thomas almost commented on the fact that Minho was the only student whom _all_ of their teachers called by first-name. He snorted softly, glaring at his friend as he was stifling a laugh, and stood up. “Sorry Mrs, I’ll leave now. I’m sorry for the disturbance.”  
  
The elderly woman nodded, face still annoyed, and Thomas sighed and walked out, not wanting to make a discussion out of this. Minho would take his stuff with him, he was certain that even though his friend was an asshole sometimes, he wasn’t that much of one. He’d make sure Thomas got his stuff.  
  
He sighed deeply when the door closed behind him and looked around. So now he had about 40 minutes of doing nothing until his next class, and he realized that not bringing his stuff out with him was stupid as hell. He could’ve done his homework for Monday, but of course he was too much of an idiot, so he resisted the urge to slam the back of his head against the door to punish himself and walked out of the school instead. At least he could enjoy the sunshine. Summer would soon turn to fall, and he wanted to make the best of the little sun they had left before things would get cold again. He liked fall though, so at least there was that. Thomas was generally pretty comfortable in most weather, he quite enjoyed rain, but there was just something about summer.  
  
He put his hands in his pockets and strolled along, allowing his mind to wander, and it ended where it always did – on blonde locks and deep brown eyes and that constant frown, and yet again Thomas wondered what he could have possibly done wrong to deserve the intense amount of hate Newt subjected him to. He knew that the football-thing hadn’t been entirely fortunate, but he’d apologized a million times by now. He’d tried anything he could come up with, he’d even shoved notes into Newt’s locker saying he was sorry until the blonde had actually walked up to him and dumped the 15-plus-some notes and told him to stop harassing him. He sighed softly to himself as he rounded a corner, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Gally and his band of merry idiots pushing around a very familiar-looking blonde. _No fucking way._  
  
“Gally! Stop that!” he yelled, feeling his feet move on their own accord towards the group, watching as Gally ripped off Newt’s jacket, making the Brit lunge after him, obviously pissed beyond words, and it made Thomas’ heart ache that they’d managed to wind him up like this when he was usually so quick-witted and eloquent. He pushed at Gally and the other guys angrily, and lucky for him they were all on the football team, because that meant that they actually pulled back a bit. “What the fuck are you guys doing? Don’t you have better stuff to do than picking on someone, like, I don’t know, practicing your playing? You suck, all five of you!” he growled, and Gally’s eyes narrowed.  
  
“You know what, Green, I’m getting pretty fucking sick of you and your holier-than-thou attitude, I don’t get why Minho even nominated you for team Captain, I sure as hell never would have made you one myself! You’re no better than any of us!” the ugly kid yelled.  
  
Thomas’ blood was all but boiling now. “Yeah, let’s talk about that, let’s talk about it like I’m the problem, like I haven’t improved you guys’ team play so fucking much since I came that your team is actually worth something now! The only people on this team with actual talent are Fry, Alby and Minho! The rest of you suck ass because you’re such a bunch of egomaniacs. I don’t think I’ve ever met that big a group of primitive idiots before!” he stated, pushing at Gally’s chest and staring him down. “You need me for the next game, last time the Grievers handed your fucking asses to you, I’m your only chance of winning this and you know it!”  
  
And the look on Gally’s face was definitely worth the fight. Thomas didn’t even know why he hated the guy so much, the two of them had just never gotten along, and they sure as hell wouldn’t now. “Leave him the fuck alone, okay? He never did anything to any of you, he doesn’t deserve having to put up with your macho bullshit!”  
  
Gally smirked, and somehow it made him even uglier to see his anger evaporate like dew in the morning sun. He looked way too happy with himself, and with a sinking feeling Thomas looked between him and the other two. “What?”  
  
“You can stop now. He’s not here. Just face it, Greenie, he hates your ass. You’re not going to impress him by playing the hero.” He laughed, throwing Newt’s jacket on the ground and wiping his feet on it, “Fucking faggot.” He said, and Thomas was way too shell-shocked to even respond to the slur. He was that easy to see through? Gally wasn’t exactly bright, and he’d known, and Newt… He looked around, realizing that Gally was right, partly relieved and partly disappointed that Newt hadn’t seen him defend him. He gave a long sigh and bent down, picking up his jacket and rubbing his jaw. Fuck. He stood there for a while, noting that the jacket still smelt slightly like what must’ve been Newt even though it had gotten a good rubbing on the ground. Then he forced his feet to move, cradling the jacket to his chest on the way to the front desk where he got Newt’s address. He was wondering whether or not to text Minho that he was going to skip the last class when his friend actually walked up right next to him. “Mrs. Edith wants you for detention Monday at two. She ended the class a little early. Chuck said he’d seen you walk in here. What the hell is that?”  
  
Thomas felt his ears go red. “Uh. It’s Newt’s jacket.”  
  
Minho’s dumbstruck expression was so good Thomas almost started laughing. “Tell me how you got the blondie’s jacket, he hates you, I need to know your trick, Greenie. Did you…?”  
  
“No!” Thomas’ horrified voice was a bit shriller than he’d meant it to be, “I mean, it’s nothing like that.”  
  
‘ _I wouldn’t just hook up with him randomly and leave.’_ Was left unsaid, because he really didn’t need Minho cracking any more jokes at his expense.  
  
“Then why do you have it? Did you steal it? Your creep-factor is rising by the second, Thomas.” The brunette felt the blush crawl further up on his face, and he quickly slapped a hand over Minho’s mouth when he realized that the reception-lady was starting to look suspicious.  
  
“I’m not a creepy stalker, I swear, I’m just going to give him his jacket.” He reassured her, and when she looked entirely unimpressed by this excuse Thomas laughed nervously and dragged Minho out with him. “You’re making me seem like a psycho, you jerk, what’d you do that for?”  
  
Minho shrugged, grinning sheepishly, “Wouldn’t want you to get arrested for stalking or something, I had to make sure. We need you for the game, you’re not gonna do us much good in a jail-cell you stupid fuck.”  
  
A deep groan left Thomas’ lips and he facepalmed. “Uh, also, I got in a fight with Gally.” He muttered, wincing slightly under Minho’s stern glance, and on the way to class (and during by passing notes, and for five minutes after) he explained the whole situation.  
  
“So, are you going to give it to him, or are you going to order one of those creepy boyfriend-dolls and put it on and sleep with it?”  
  
That one earned him a slap on the back of the head, and he grinned when Thomas flipped him off and pointedly walked towards his car. “Do you want a lift or not?” he muttered, so low that Minho shouldn’t have been able to hear it, but the taller guy was already next to him again, a shit-eating grin on his face as he put an arm around Thomas’ shoulders.  
  
“Whatever man, as long as you invite me to the wedding when you marry your creepy Newt-doll.”  
  
“Why am I even friends with you?”  
  
“Because you’re hoping that my coolness-factor rubs off on you – which it won’t, by the way.” The Asian stated, getting into the passenger-seat of Thomas’ car as he always did and leaned back with a happy sigh. “This car is the best thing I ever got.”  
  
An eye roll was the only answer he got for the first minute or so. “Hey, it’s _my_ car.”  
  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Thomas hadn't expected a miniature girl-version of Newt to open the door.  
  
Then again, he hadn’t expected to have Minho sitting in the car, leaning out of the window and staring at him.  
  
The kid was cute. He hadn’t even known that Newt had a sister. But she had the same up-turned nose, the same delicate features and the same cheekbones. It made him want to hug her. Instead he kneeled down a bit, smiling at her and cocking his head slightly. "Hi, is Newt home?"  
  
The girl looked at him, measuring him up in a way that was so alike her brother, so defensive and so unnerving and put her hands in her sides. "Why?"  
  
He blinked. "Uh. Because I'd like to talk to him. I have his jacket."  
  
The girl lit up in a bright smile. "Oh yay! Mama will be so happy that he didn't lose it anyway. He's so forgetful, she gets angry with him sometimes because he loses his stuff so all the time." she stated, and the way those big brown eyes lit up made Thomas' heart pound just a bit. He was pretty certain he'd never get Newt to smile at him like that.  
  
Also, lost it? The mere thought that Newt lied to his family about why he lost his stuff made Thomas feel bad that he hadn't said anything about it before. "Yeah, so can you get him for me? Just say it's a guy from school with his jacket." he said, not sure Newt would come out if he knew that it was Thomas. Somehow the thought of Newt having to lie to his family not to make them feel bad for him had his head reeling. The thought of it… it was horrible, actually, and Thomas wasn’t sure if it was just that it was Newt, or if this horrible bad conscience came because he’d never really realized just how bad the kids who got bullied had it. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was glad for the distraction when Newt’s sister spoke again.  
  
She was looking at him suspiciously. "What's your name?"  
  
Thomas looked up when his absolute favorite blond emerged (though the girl in front of him was a close second with her intelligent eyes and bright smile that showed off a gap where she'd lost her baby teeth) and stood up quickly. "Thomas."  
  
Newt looked all but happy that he was there, and Thomas held up his jacket like it was a peace-offering, "Got your jacket."  
  
The girl's snickers made him move his attention to her, confused at the reaction. "Ooooh,  _you're_  Thomas! You're  _cute._ I get why- _"_ The rest of her sentence was turned into a mumbling against Newt's hand as the teen slapped his hand over her mouth.  
  
"That's enough, Naya, you can go play with your dolls now." he said, shoving at his sister who was looking at Thomas with glee shining from her huge eyes, "Don't mind her, she's not right in the head." he continued, the last part of his sentence directed to Thomas while he slipped out the door and slammed it behind him, muffling the squeal from his sister. "So, you've come to try to convince me not to tell the school of something, don't worry, I'd never even try, they never take the openly gay kid's side in stuff like this anyway, you can go now." he stated, snatching his jacket, and Thomas stepped back a bit, surprised by the anger.  
  
"Uh... hi? I just wanted to give you your jacket. I didn't... I don't care if you tell the school, they'd deserve it anyway. Why does your sister know who I am?"  
  
Newt snorted, "Maybe psychic powers come with her stupidity, how the bloody hell would I know?"

  
Thomas shrugged helplessly, wondering if he could do _anything_ right according to this guy, ‘cause it felt more and more like Newt was just looking for reasons to not like him, and it was getting slightly unnerving. “Uh… Hey Newt, I was just wondering… did I do something to you I don’t know? Or am I reminding you of someone or something, because I don’t understand why you hate me so much when I’m just trying to be nice. I swear I’ll leave you alone if you honestly want me to, I just don’t understand. I don’t want to- uh… your nose is healing nicely.” He ended up muttering, trailing off because he didn’t know what to do or say instead of standing here like some lame-ass idiot, trying to explain to Newt why he should stop hating him. Maybe bringing up the nose-thing wasn’t the wisest choice now that he thought about it.  
  
Newt’s eyes were narrowed now, and the blonde pulled his fingers through his hair, huffing. “Look, Thomas, I don’t know what’s with you, if you’re one of those guys who thinks that everyone needs to love you just… just don’t bother, okay? It’s nothing personal, but I don’t want to spend my time with a group of dumb jocks. I’m fine with Chuck, and I just need to get through the year and not draw too much attention to myself. Thanks for helping me today, thanks for giving me my jacket, but we’re not friends and we’re not going to be. I don’t want to be your friend.” He took his jacket from Thomas’ hands, and somehow the brunette didn’t want to let go. Maybe he really was a creepy stalker.  
  
Thomas drew in a sharp breath and ducked his head, trying to hide exactly how much that comment stung. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”  
  
Newt shrugged. “Yeah, well, life’s tough Tommy, you don’t just get to tell people to be friends with you, that’s not how things work.”  
  
And then he turned around and walked back into the house, and Thomas couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so defeated. It must have showed when he turned around and started walking to the car, because Minho’s shrill wolf-whistle died on his lips when he saw the broken look on Thomas’ face. He winced slightly when the door slammed behind him a few seconds after that.  
  
“That went well I take it.” Minho stated, looking at him when he got in and put his forehead on the steering-wheel.  
  
“Yeah. Incredible, we’re adopting three babies.”  
  
Minho patted him sympathetically on the back. “Beer?”  
  
“Affirmative. Beer.”  
  
“Beer it is then. You probably shouldn’t have broken his nose.”  
  
“Duly noted.”


	2. Let's be friends, I'm dying to see how this one ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho shrugged and threw the ball back to him. “Well, he’s definitely single. If he got any kind of laid he’d be walking funny, there’s no way that kid’s topping.”
> 
> Thomas rolled his eyes. “Nice with the prejudices, Min, real classy.” He snorted, catching the ball and sending it right back, still deep in thought, but this time with better aim.
> 
> Another smirk. “Well, he’s a twink, no doubt about it. The two of you couldn’t be more cliché if you tried. Hipster-nerd blondie twink and brunette football player. I’m pretty sure it’s a trope of some sort. Wouldn’t surprise me if one of you burst into that pop song, you know the one, blahblah chemicals react opposites attract.”
> 
> Thomas shook his head and flopped down on the ground after having caught the ball again. “You have terrible taste in music, did you know that?” He muttered, running a finger along the stitching on the pigskin and sighing deeply. “Also, you’re a horrible friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sorry this took so long, life happened, things got crazy. Thank you to everyone who's sticking with me even though I'm trash.  
> 2\. I got a beta!! The lovely [jamesrogersx](http://jamesrogersx.tumblr.com) of tumblr. She's hella rad, and she also writes! Go check her out!  
> 3\. I'm not sorry about the stuff in this chapter. Thomas' drunkenness can be blamed solely on [haletrinity](http://haletrinity.tumblr.com) of tumblr.

Spending the day with Minho helped somewhat. They’d been best friends basically since day one, and though Minho never really expressed that much interest in the whole love-romance-dating-thing, Thomas valued his advice.  
  
Minho was incredibly well-mannered, and although he didn’t express his emotions, he understood them better than Thomas ever could. He just didn’t care for them. So they’d spent the day trying to dissect Newt’s aversion to Thomas in the manliest way possible – while throwing a pig-skin back and forth under the pretence of having to practice their passes, which was of course a smoking bunch of horseshit, seeing as they were two of the best players on the team.  
  
Thomas had never quite figured out _what_ scholarship Minho had been offered, just that there was one; honestly, he was just as smart as he was athletic, he could easily have gotten in on either one. Minho didn’t want to say though, because for all his smirks and bragging, he was actually a pretty modest guy. Every time he started bragging it seemed almost ironic because he never actually bragged about real things. He didn’t seem to bother trying to make himself look better than he did. Maybe because he was already the closest thing to a poster-boy the school had. Thomas would have made a good second if he wasn’t so unfocused when it came to his studies.  
  
“Maybe he just isn’t into guys.” Minho mused.

  
Thomas shook his head. That couldn’t be it. “He said that he was openly gay when he talked about the school thing.” He stated, and it made him wonder. “Do you think he has a boyfriend?” He asked, not knowing exactly why the thought annoyed him so much. It was just a crush, but he still kind of wanted Newt to be single, at least so Thomas could admire him from afar now that he’d decided that they weren’t going to be friends.  
  
Minho shook his head and laughed, running after the ball when it went over his head. “Nah man – don’t focus on him in our next game, promise me that, whenever he’s around your aim’s completely off. Maybe he thinks you’re an idiot and feels like he’d be some kind of felon or perv for making a move on you? I mean, that pathetic little crush of yours is pretty damn obvious, isn’t it?”  
  
Thomas glared at him. “It’s not. He thought I wanted to be friends.”  
  
Minho shrugged and threw the ball back to him. “Well, he’s definitely single. If he got any kind of laid he’d be walking funny, there’s no way that kid’s topping.”  
  
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Nice with the prejudices, Min, real classy.” He snorted, catching the ball and sending it right back, still deep in thought, but this time with better aim.  
  
Another smirk. “Well, he’s a twink, no doubt about it. The two of you couldn’t be more cliché if you tried. Hipster-nerd blondie twink and brunette football player. I’m pretty sure it’s a trope of some sort. Wouldn’t surprise me if one of you burst into that pop song, you know the one, blahblah chemicals react opposites attract.”  
  
Thomas shook his head and flopped down on the ground after having caught the ball again. “You have terrible taste in music, did you know that?” He muttered, running a finger along the stitching on the pigskin and sighing deeply. “Also, you’re a horrible friend.”  
  
Minho just barked out a short laugh and stepped into the house, returning with two beers. “Nah man, I’m the best friend you could possibly have. I’m gonna help you drown your misery. He’s just a guy, man, there are gonna be others. You don’t even know him that well, it’s gonna be fine. Maybe he’s just awkward, maybe he’s a very angry person; either way, it doesn’t help to sulk about it. I don’t really see the whole thing about him being nice if he’s such a moody little bitch about you trying to be nice to him. If it’s just because you play football, he’s the one who’s prejudiced.”  
  
Thomas took the beer from his hand, silent in thought for a second before looking up at his friend. “I don’t think you’ve ever talked for so long before.” He stated, and Minho rolled his eyes at him.  
  
“Whatever Greenie, you asked for my advice, I gave it to you. Good on you, recognizing that I’m smarter than you.” And then he put his lips to the bottle and made an obscene sucking gesture which instantly prompted Thomas to throw a punch toward his crotch that Minho elegantly avoided by sidestepping. “Don’t be moody, be drunk instead.” He advised, flopping down next to Thomas, who huffed and drained his bottle in a matter of minutes.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Thomas looked around when he got in, actually surprised. He knew that Teresa’s family had moved since he’d dated her, but he hadn’t expected the new house to be _this_ much bigger than their old one. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise though. Her mother had written some really popular book about successful women (Teresa didn’t have her burning passion for equality from strangers) and her father was a doctor, so there shouldn’t really be as much surprise at this fact as he actually felt.  
  
Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t told him, but Minho didn’t even seem phased. “This place is _huge_.” Thomas stated, looking around, and he was glad he was already a bit buzzed, because that meant that his confusion probably didn’t show as much as he felt it. It hurt a little that she hadn’t told him or wanted to show him.

  
“Yeah, it is. It’s a pretty nice crib.” Minho stated casually, and Thomas knew that he and Teresa were friends, but not that they were close enough that Minho had been here already.  
  
He furrowed his brows. “You’ve _been_ here?”  
  
A shrug and smirk from the Asian, “You know, Greenie, I _do_ have a life outside of you, however hard that must be for your puny brain to grasp.”  
  
The brunette huffed and shoved at him. “I marvel at why I bother being friends with you.” He muttered, glaring up at Minho, when Teresa came over, smiling and hugging both of them. He forced a smile, not wanting to show his disappointment. How had he gotten so out of sync with people? Newt didn’t want to be his friend, Teresa and Minho were suddenly better friends than him and Teresa were. It was weird, and Thomas didn’t like it. Instead, he pursed his lips and waved at Alby, who came in from the living room, waving them over.  
  
“So, where’s the booze?” Minho asked, and Teresa slapped his chest in a mocking gesture, “Don’t just come here to drink my booze and leave.”  
  
“Well, it’s your parents’, isn’t it?”  
  
Teresa rolled her eyes, and Thomas felt a smile creep onto his face. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d thought. They were all still his friends, and he cared about them a lot. “Chuck gonna be here?” He asked, when Teresa took one of their hands in each of hers and led them towards Alby.  
  
Minho groaned. “Christ, don’t start.” He mocked, smirking softly and shaking his head when Teresa sent him a questioning glance.  
  
She shrugged, seemingly not wanting to pry (and Thomas was thankful for that, because he really hadn’t tried to ask about Newt – okay, maybe a little, but he was trying to ask without asking, because he didn’t want to seem as desperate and obsessed as he actually felt) and let go of them when they were next to their former team captain. “Yeah, Chuck’s gonna be here later. I invited Gally, Ben, and the crew as well, but I’m not sure they’re coming. Doesn’t really matter, though, some of my old friends are here as well, although all of them couldn’t make it, so at least it’s not just going to be me and my idiot gang of males.”  
  
Minho rubbed his hands together, smirking, “Are you saying that there’ll be some of the girls from your happy boarding school days?” he asked, eyes lighting up, and Teresa shoved at him again, sending him a stern glare that almost made Thomas choke on the beer that Alby had handed him because he was so busy laughing.  
  
“Leave them alone, you creep.” She snorted, taking a sip of her drink, and Minho smirked at her.  
  
“Are you kidding? I’m the golden boy, they’d be so lucky.”  
  
Collective groan, eye rolls, shots. Everything was as it should be, and Thomas was grateful for the opportunity to put Newt out of his head and try to make himself not ask about the blonde again, because Teresa hadn’t really answered what he really wanted to know.  
  
And the thing was, Thomas was happy that, in their own way, things were back to normal. He wasn’t the type to engage in the whole love-thing. Even his relationship with Teresa back then had taken him by surprise. It hadn’t been planned, it had just sort of grown out of their friendship; it hadn’t been completely right, but it hadn’t felt wrong either. When they split up, he’d been sad too, but it just hadn’t felt right. It had felt like trying to make his best friend something she wasn’t, and that’s why he’d decided to stop things. He knew he’d hurt her. So he didn’t really pursue these things. He had plenty of flings, after all Thomas was a people’s person. He enjoyed spending time with others, and he liked the little things about people. He’d even sported a small crush on Minho when he came here. Thomas didn’t _dislike_ the idea of being with someone, he just didn’t pursue it actively. If someone wanted to go on a date, he went, and if he felt like it, he’d invite a girl or guy or whatever. It didn’t really matter much to him, but he wasn’t looking for something.  
  
And maybe that was why this crush on Newt just happened. He felt like he was falling way harder than he should have been. He didn’t want to fall for someone, but Newt was just something different. He was something Thomas wasn’t used to, and he wanted to get to know him. So it was weird. It was weirder than Thomas had felt in a long time, and he recognized that this was a crush, but he didn’t like it just because he knew what it was. It felt weird. Nice, but weird, but then not so nice because Newt obviously wasn’t exactly a big fan of his. He just wanted to make the blonde change his mind, so when Chuck walked in, brown mop of curls and warm eyes alight with excitement, Thomas bounced over there, putting an arm around him. “Chuck. Chuckie.” He greeted, and maybe he was a bit drunk, but that didn’t matter, because Chuck was cool. Chuck was sort of the mascot (apart from actually _being_ the school mascot, Chuck was also sort of the mascot of Thomas’ group of friends). Chuck was fun and nice and he was a bit of a dork, but they all liked him.  
  
“Thomas, hi!” Chuck greeted, beaming at him, and Thomas was glad, because he’d always felt sort of protective of the little fucker, enjoying to spend time with him because even if he’d never shared that with him, Chuck was sort of the little brother Thomas had never had.  
  
“What’s up Chuckie? How are ya? Making our new kid feel welcome?” Thomas asked, and he knew as soon as he asked it that he was being selfish, because he really liked Chuck but right now he was using him to get intel on Newt, and he really shouldn’t, but he wanted to know, and he settled for trying to hide exactly how hyperactive he felt about this. He needed to know if Newt was gonna be here.  
  
Chuck seemed to notice, though, because he just laughed and shook his head slightly. “Yeah, he’s fine. He doesn’t like you much. Maybe because you’re such a nosy shank.” He stated, and Thomas frowned a bit.  
  
“I sort of hoped he was just being prejudiced… Minho sort of thought-“  
  
Chuck snorted. “Minho’s clever, but he doesn’t know people.”  
  
Thomas fell silent. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to this, because honestly it was sort of hard to take a younger kid who’d never been with anyone’s word (Thomas at least suspected that Chuck had never been with anyone) above Minho’s, because when it all came down to it, Chuck was all talk. Thomas liked him, he really did, but maybe-  
  
“Chuck!”  
  
Thomas turned his head, reacting instantly to the voice that seemed so well-known although it had only recently entered his life, and he really tried to pretend like it was just because someone was yelling. He wasn’t sure if that was coming through (probably not, Thomas had the stealth of a hyperactive elephant) so he just turned his head to Chuck, pressing the beer into the younger boy’s hand.  
  
“Hi, Newt!” Chuck responded, almost immediately because Chuck also had no stealth, and he grabbed at Thomas’ elbow and spun him around before Thomas had any time to actually protest. He almost choked on his beer when he saw Newt head on. A black mark had bloomed on his cheekbone where one of Gally’s boys had hit him, but he was beautiful none the less. Thomas had never thought of another guy as beautiful before Newt had entered his life, but there was no denying that the half-smirk on his lips and the warm eyes were exactly that. His smile wavered a bit when he saw Thomas, though, and Thomas swallowed a lump at the thought. He was so bad he actively countered Newt’s good mood – lovely. That was exactly the opposite reaction of what he wanted to inspire in the boy. So he did the only thing a person in his situation could (and could be expected to) do.  
  
“Minho! Jägerbombs!” and left instantly, not even trying to talk to Newt because that obviously hadn’t worked out well last time, and he wasn’t going to try to force his company on someone who obviously didn’t want it (or so he told himself). At least for now.  
  
Fast forward three hours and way more alcohol (of every sort and variety that Teresa’s dad’s very well-stocked bar – yes, they had a _real bar_ now – could supply) than should be humanly possible, Thomas’s resolve not to talk to Newt was dwindling rapidly. He was laughing at some joke Teresa’s buddy Aris had made, and Thomas tried not to feel jealous, he really did, but he was, and it bothered him maybe as much as it bothered him that Newt wouldn’t be his friend but seemed to feel fine talking to Aris. The churning in his gut was growing and growing and in the end he stood up abruptly, shocking the friend of the girl Minho was currently hitting on by his rapid movement. She’d been crawling all over him the last fifteen minutes, trying to capture his attention but failing, and Minho sent him a stern glance. Thomas didn’t even bother trying to look apologetic. Minho might be interested in these girls, and maybe Thomas would have been if Newt hadn’t been there.  
  
He was drawn by the blonde hair and the way it curled slightly at the nape of Newt’s neck because it was hot in the room, and he was still laughing and Thomas wanted to kiss the last traces of that laughter off of his face so he’d never have to be reminded again that Aris made him laugh so his eyes crinkled at the corners.  
  
Before he (or Minho, who’d started standing up) could stop himself he’d trudged over there decisively, stopping right in front of Newt and Aris who both turned their heads, looking surprised, and Thomas’ heart skipped a beat when Newt arched an eyebrow, looking annoyed already, and his mouth felt dry, but he emptied his cup and put it down, urging himself on inside his head.

  
 _You can do this. You’re supposed to know what you did wrong if someone doesn’t want to talk to you. You can’t change what you’re doing wrong if he doesn’t want to tell you what it is. Tell him that, just tell him, it’ll be fine. Just say it, calm and easy, Thomas._  
  
“WHY WON’T YOU BE MY FRIEND?!” and inside his head it had been calm, but Thomas was a loud drunk, and he was _hurt._ “I NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU, I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE NICE, AND YOU WON’T BE MY FRIEND AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND!”  
  
Both Newt and Aris had taken a step back, seemingly surprised by Thomas’ outburst.  
  
“I just don’t get along with jocks, Tommy, it’s not about you, can’t you just leave it?” Newt ground out, very obviously embarrassed by Thomas drawing attention to them so insistently:  
  
“NO! NO I CAN’T! I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE IT! BE MY FRIEND! I WANT YOU TO BE MY FRIEND! YOU- YOU- YOU POOPYFACE!” Thomas demanded, only barely refraining from stomping his foot because he recognized even in his incredibly inebriated state that it would be extremely childish.  
  
Newt blinked. “You can’t just demand that people be your friends, I told you, Tommy, it doesn’t work like that. Everyone doesn’t just magically like you, some people just don’t. You need to accept that.”  
  
Thomas felt his skin flush with frustration, because _why wouldn’t Newt understand?_ “NO! NO I WON’T ACCEPT THAT! I’M EXTREMELY LIKEABLE! YOU HAVE TO LIKE ME, EVERYONE DOES!” Thomas claimed, looking over his shoulder when a big hand was clapped on it. “I’M LIKE A PUPPY! EVERYONE LIKES PUPPIES! TELL HIM, MIN, TELL HIM ABOUT THAT TIME YOU SAID I WAS LIKE A PUPPY!” and this time he actually stomped his foot because this was just annoying and maybe he shouldn’t have done shots with two of Teresa’s friends because _man_ that Brenda could do shots like a pro.  
  
Minho snorted next to him, putting an arm around Thomas’ shoulders and shaking his head. “I didn’t call you a puppy, I called you a dog. Aris, blondie, I’d like to apologize on behalf of Greenie here, he gets loud when he’s drunk. He’s not going to cause you guys any trouble and I’m sorry for this little spectacle.” He said, grinning as he led a very defeated-looking Thomas away from a very unimpressed-looking Newt.  
  
The last thing Thomas heard from the lips of the blonde was a snort and “A bloody dog, of course.” But Minho prevented him from turning around and correcting the mistake by putting a forceful hand on the back of his neck and leading him outside.  
  
“Thomas, if you go back in there I swear I will break both of your legs, we’ll find another team captain, I don’t care.” He stated, warning entering his voice as he stared Thomas down, making him gulp ever so slightly, because when Minho wanted to, he could be terrifying. “Okay, sit down.” He said, and Thomas felt his body sit down without him actually ordering it to do it. “Good boy.”  
  
Thomas frowned. “Why’d you call me a dog in front of Newt?”  
  
Minho waved him off, obviously still annoyed. “Thomas, if someone doesn’t like you, yelling at them isn’t the way. I was trying to have fun with a cool girl, and you blew that because Teresa threatened to tell them exactly how many people I’ve been with if I didn’t stop you. Indirectly, you’re the reason I’m not getting laid tonight, so it’s time for listening and not yelling, do you understand?”  
  
Thomas nodded mutely, feeling more and more defeated by the second because Minho being annoyed with him wasn’t really anything new, Minho was annoyed with a lot of people, but a stern talking-to wasn’t something he wanted from his friend. Might as well get it over with.  
  
“Okay. Slim it and let me talk, I don’t want to be interrupted.” And Thomas did, looking at him expectantly. “Newt isn’t interested in you. He doesn’t want to talk to you, and you have to accept that, because ordering people to be your friends is a little creepy, Thomas. I’m sorry he doesn’t like you, I know you wanted to get to know him, but you can’t order him to like you. He’s obviously got issues with dudes like us, and you have to accept that. You don’t know why he’s the way he is, but he is, and if you can’t accept that you’re not going to be a good friend for him anyway. People always like you, and that’s good for you, but you need to understand that he doesn’t. Accept it, or he’ll just start hating you instead of this casual despising you he’s doing right now. Also I’m cutting you off. No more alcohol tonight.”  
  
Thomas whined low in his throat, not even sure himself what part he was whining about, and he put his face in his hands. “I want more beer. I hate myself.”  
  
Minho sighed. “Okay, you’re going home. I’m calling you a cab, man, this is ridiculous.”  
  
Thomas’ head snapped up and he readied himself for protesting, but Minho’s stern glance quickly taught him that that wasn’t a real possibility, so instead he just decided to sulk and go with it. “Fine.”  
  
Minho’s lips curled up in a small smile, and he stuck his hand out for Thomas to take and pulled him up, steadying him when Thomas wobbled slightly. “Now put that dude out of your head, he’s obviously messing with your party-skills and I can’t have that. Losing my wingman for senior year would be a catastrophe.”  
  
And Thomas felt slightly better, because Minho was never one to communicate his feelings, and maybe that wasn’t really a huge statement, but it was as good as he would ever get Minho to say. The Asian would take any fight for Thomas, always have his back, back him up in even the stupidest of discussions, but actually telling him that he wanted him around and wanted him to be happy? That didn’t happen a lot, and it actually got Thomas to focus on something other than the fact that someone inexplicably just disliked him for no good reason, and they actually made it through the living room without Thomas wondering why he couldn’t see Newt anywhere.  
  
He only got to thinking about that later when he was lying in his bed, staring into the ceiling and realizing that the Englishman had been nowhere to see. He was raking his brain to remember whether or not Aris had been there, but he just couldn’t, so he fell into a drunken sleep instead, dreaming of blonde curls and chocolatey eyes and a scowl that shouldn’t really be as attractive as it was.  
  
  
The next day was the worst hell Thomas had ever been through, so when Chuck flopped down on his bed Thomas screamed so loud that he almost puked. Or maybe that was just the hangover, he wasn’t entirely certain. “You! _How_ are you so silent?” he wailed, rubbing his head seconds later because he’d managed to give himself a headache with his own yelling. Perfect. He’d been wallowing in his embarrassment peacefully until Chuck appeared.  
  
He reconsidered forgiveness when the kid grinned at him and produced a bag of salted potato chips seemingly out of nowhere, and he instantly started devouring it, gulping down the coke Chuck had brought.  
  
“Now am I a life-saver or not?” Chuck grinned, and Thomas groaned softly, eating on without letting Chuck’s recount of what had happened after he left disturb him.  
  
Until Newt was mentioned, of course.  
  
“-went home right after you and Minho went outside, so you basically ruined his first party with us, great move.” Chuck said, sending Thomas a stern glance that was very unlike him, and Thomas cringed slightly at the thought.  
  
“Yeah. That wasn’t a good move.” He muttered, and when Chuck cocked an eyebrow he groaned louder, “Okay it was a really shitty move, I’m sorry, I know I get loud when I’m drunk, I didn’t mean to yell at him.” He muttered, knowing that he was whining and that really he shouldn’t be the one who needed comfort when he’d fucked things up himself. “I just don’t get why he hates me so much. I’ve only been trying to be nice, and I don’t… I just really don’t understand.”  
  
Chuck wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think he hates you. He’s not the hateful type. He’s actually pretty cheerful. Very kind, I don’t know why he doesn’t like you, but he doesn’t seem to like any sporty people at all, so I don’t think you should take it personally.” He mused on, seemingly thinking out loud because he wasn’t actually looking at Thomas, just rambling on, “I don’t know him that well, he hasn’t said anything yet, but I’m sure he has his reasons. Also the dog thing Minho said wasn’t good. He didn’t say much about it, but I think he thinks you’re a player.”  
  
Thomas dragged his pillow on top of his head, hoping to suffocate slowly in silence, which was why Chuck’s muffled voice didn’t exactly reach through. He felt sick to his stomach because the only word he actually caught was Aris, so he flung the pillow away and sat up a bit too quickly. He grabbed onto a meaty shoulder to steady himself, hoping to get less dizzy. “What about Aris?”  
  
Chuck laughed softly next to him. “Woah, Minho was right, you’re _really_ jealous. I just said that you freaked out Aris as well. They were just talking. Not that it’s any of your business, since Newt doesn’t want to be your stupid boyfriend anyway.” He snickered, and Thomas glared at him, promptly hitting him in the face with his pillow. “You bringing me hangover snacks does not entitle you to be an asshole.” He muttered grumpily, flopping back down on the bed and staring into the ceiling. “I just wanted him to like me.”  
  
Chuck snorted, clapping his arm softly. “Yeah man. I know. Maybe just… don’t try so hard. I’ll try to talk to him, okay? But I’m not making any promises.”  
  
The brunette whined low in the back of his throat. “Thanks man.”  
  
“You can trust Uncle Chuck.”  
  
"Ugh, gross." Thomas muttered, putting an arm over his eyes to express his suffering, because really, he couldn't have been drinking enough last night to deserve this kind of torment. His insides were in a knot of nausea and intense embarrassment and his head was pounding - which could be considered fitting, he guessed, as he'd obviously taken out his brain for a fair amount of time last night and only recently put it back in. A maneuver he was now regretting intensely. Why, oh why did he have to be so stupid? He was in agony, and it was entirely his own fault, as his friends seemed very keen on reminding him. A _pling_ near his face told him that another friend had probably decided to remind him of his intense denseness.  
  
It took him a couple of minutes to react, and when he finally removed his arm and opened his eyes Chuck was already holding his phone in front of his face. “Minho.” He stated, and Thomas grunted. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to his best friend. He was way too embarrassed of his behavior last night. He vaguely recalled Minho having to actually call him a cab and send him home like some disappointed parent. “You should probably answer it.” Chuck stated, and Thomas furrowed his brows. “When did you become responsible? It’s no fun.”  
  
Chuck beamed at him. “You think I’m responsible?”  
  
Thomas groaned. “No. I think you’re annoying. Go away so I can wallow in my self-hate.”  
  
Chuck just beamed again, standing and practically bouncing. Then he seemed to steady himself for long enough to put an arm on Thomas’ shoulder and press his phone into his hand. “It’ll be okay. Newt’s not a bad guy, if you just leave off for a while he’ll see that you’re the best. Just leave him alone. I’ll talk to him. And about the embarrassment… maybe lay off the alcohol for a while.”  
  
Thomas moaned sadly, yet another fit of self-loathing overtaking him, and Chuck bounced out of his room, having learned a long time ago that when Thomas went all whiny there was nothing else to do except let him ride it out on his own.  
  
 _Minho: What’s up you drunk dickhead?_

 _Thomas: I think there should be a comma in there somewhere._  
 _Minho: Ooooh, awake and present enough to lecture me on the wonders of the Oxford comma. It’s called texting, Tommy. I don’t have to be entirely correct. It isn’t like you to be._  
 _Thomas: Don’t call me Tommy._  
 _Minho: Awh, poor thing, your ego got an owie?_  
 _Thomas: You’re a terrible friend._  
 _Minho: Then I guess I won’t be bringing McDonald’s and Zombieland over to cure your hangover and mock you all day until you hate me so much you forget to be embarrassed._  
 _Thomas: … Extra cheese._  
 _Minho: That’s what I thought._  
  
And only ten minutes later the Asian strolled in, which told Thomas that he hadn’t really planned on taking no for an answer if Thomas didn’t want to see him. Very typical Minho, really, for Thomas to think that he’d have a choice he had to reconsider if he’d actually gotten his brain back just yet.


End file.
